Beloved
by Emma CS Me
Summary: ...Or, if Nobody Wins, Who Writes History? It might be forgotten, but Belarus does have a reason for hating Lithuania.  Trigger warning: kidnapping and false imprisonment, violence, stalking and sexual harassment, dubcon and general mindf-ckery. Complete
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** Written for this prompt on hetalia_kink: "Lithuania, when the Kievan Rus broke apart and Belarus went to stay with him, was actually quite cruel. I want to see this aspect of their relationship. " Note: strict historical accuracy is not what you're going to find here. Although there's enough I have to put notes down the bottom. It shall be divided into three parts, because... well, it would be too freaking long if I tried to make it one, not to mention I want reviews!

**Trigger warnings:** kidnapping and false imprisonment, violence, stalking and sexual harassment, later dubcon, and general mindfuckery .

* * *

><p><strong>Beloved (or, if Nobody Wins, Who Writes History?)<strong>

"Brother! Sister!" he whips her hair around her face as she tries to shake the snow out of it. "Fuck. Ivan! Katyusha! Where are you?"

She trips over a small rock and goes flailing with a cry. She does not fall, however, as a mysterious man catches her by the waist, keeping her upright and spinning her around to face him.

"...Who are you?" she asks. His eyes are a watery blue and his hair long and brown; she's never seen him before, and she forgets her manners (or what few she has) in the confusion.

"Toris," he says. "You?"

"I'm Natalya," she answers. "And, um... thank you, I guess. You can let me go now."

He's still gripping her waist, and looking up at the sky above. She struggles in his grasp. "Hey, didn't you hear me? Let go!"

"It's cold out here," he says, his nails suddenly digging into her hips, and she hisses in pain.

"I can handle it."

"Alone?"

She tries to push him away, but it does is make him grip her by the arms instead of the waist. "Stop it, let me go!"

"Be reasonable, Natalya. You see this snow? Stay out here alone, a young girl like you could get in serious trouble."

She spits in his face. "Fuck you. I am _not_ a young girl, and by the way, my brother and sister are here so I really don't need your help anyway, _thanks_."

"Then where are they?" he asks. She hesitates. "I heard you calling for them. You're lost, Natalya; you best come with me."

"Never," she insists. She struggles against his grasp again, and he just leans in closer.

"I know who you are," he whispers. "What you are. I'm just like you. And you're just a bit of territory whose rule has fallen apart; you need _someone_ to take care of you."

Her eyes go wide when she realises she is being taken by another nation; she is being _occupied_, and she starts to panic. "Let me go! Brother, sister! Help! Where you, dammit?"

"Stop, Natalya!" Toris shakes her roughly, grasping her tighter around the arms. She struggles more and he _finally_ lets go, but only long enough to reach towards her chest and push her down firmly.

She falls and hits her head on the same damn rock she tripped on to begin with, and suddenly all is black.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing here?"<p>

Lithuania's eyes light up when he sees her, rising to his feet. "Belarus!" He acts as if seeing her is like the sight of the sight after a millennium buried under the earth.

She keeps a reasonable distance.

"I asked a question."

He sighs, looking away sadly. "Russia has taken my land, I suppose. Again," he adds a slight smile. "I am now the Lithuanian Socialist Soviet Republic."

He seems frightened, and her heart starts to pound. It will be good to see him cowered, afraid, submissive again. She _wants_ to see that bastard scared, dammit. But he will be scared in _her house_, so close he could touch her if he tried, and she thought she had escaped this.

Her fear consumes her until she realises she has forgotten to breath. _Relax_, she tells herself as she inhales deeply, trying not to hyperventilate. _Big brother can keep him in line; you know that_.

Lithuania does not seem to notice a thing. He always was wilfully blind. "So, if you have the time, would you... like to help me with my things?"

She tries not to gag at his innocent, schooboy crush smile. "I have work to do," she says, before running off into her brother's empty room and hiding under the bed.

* * *

><p>When she wakes up, the first thing she says is "Ow."<p>

She can tell she is lying on a bed; a rather comfortable one, too. Slowly, she opens her eyes. This room is unfamiliar to her, and she tries to comprehend the patterns on the ceiling through her pounding headache. Suddenly, there is a face above hers, which _is_ familiar, but both barely and painfully so. "Hello," he says.

"Toris," she declares, trying to push herself up through with her hands. She suddenly realises they are cuffed to the sides of the bed – how did she not feel that? She feels woozy, and struggling against her restraints only makes it worse, so she has to give in. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

He sighs, gently running his hand through her hair. She shudders. "I am the Duchy of Lithuania," he says. "And I want to take care of you."

"You are a pretentious kidnapping sack of shit," she tells him. "And I want to see my brother and sister."

"They're _lost_, Natalya," he says. "The best you can do is make the most of now."

She frowns and squirms against her restraints again, body brushing against the sheets. It feels odd, and she starts to notice something.

"...Hey... I'm naked, aren't I? ...You bastard, what did you do–"

"I had to strip you to put you to bed; your clothes were designed for walking in the cold, not very comfortable," he says, as if it were obvious. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't find any female nightclothes."

Her head pounds and she tries to think through it, but she's caught on the fact that this _freak_ has _kidnapped_ her and now she is fucking handcuffed and naked in some bed of his, and oh god–"

"I didn't do anything to you," he says, rolling his eyes at the look of disgust on her face. She wants to punch his skull in, but she can't because she is handcuffed to the fucking bed. "I'm not the type, Natalya, don't worry. You're safe with me."

She doesn't feel very safe, but when she thinks about it logically, she thinks he's probably telling the truth – if he had done something, she would probably be able to feel it. "You could have at least give me an old shirt or something," she grumbles.

He sighs. "Maybe later. Now come on, I brought you food." The restraints on her arms don't actually stop her from moving upward, when he slides an arm under her and pushes her up, much to her displeasure. "Ah!"

"What?" he asks, and she can't help but flush as the blanket falls away, revealing her breasts far too much. "Oh. _Oh_. Here." He takes his coat off, blushing a little himself before covering her with it.

She will not thank him. "Alright then. But if you want me to eat, you'll have to undo these handcuffs."

"And risk you escaping?" he asks.

"You're watching me in your bed, I have no idea where I am, and I'm stark naked; the chances of me actually making it out are low..."

"I'll feed you myself," he says, as if she had never spoken. She glares.

"Do you want to die?"

He laughs. "You're cute when you're angry," he says, dipping a spoon into a bowl of soup and raising it to her lips.

Reluctantly, she takes the soup into her mouth.

Long enough to spit it back out at him.

* * *

><p>"What time is it? And you haven't made big brother's breakfast yet?" she yells, pushing past that quivering wreck of a boy to get at the food. <em>Oh god, please don't let big brother be unhappy with me...<em>

"No, actually, Miss Belarus," says the one with the glasses – Estonia? "We finished making his breakfast quite awhile ago, actually, and were now making our own. We're allowed to do that, right?"

She sighs. "Alright then. I suppose I will make my own food as well," she says.

"Um, Belarus?" comes Lithuania's voice, almost innocent. "I think I've made a bit too much dough, if you would like to...?"

Her stomach churns. She _knows_ the taste of Lithuanian food.

"I'd rather make my own, thank you very much." It's something of a lie – she's completely lost her appetite.

* * *

><p>She tries to escape again and again, so he chains her up, again and again. He must get off on it, the pervert. Still, true to his word, he hasn't touched her. And she actually has clothes now.<p>

One day, he comes in with the key a lot earlier than she was expecting. "Yay, freedom," she says, and she's probably make some kind of gesture to express her sarcasm on the word 'freedom', but she's still handcuffed.

He sighs as he takes the cuffs and starts to unlock them (she shrinks back as far from him as possible). "I need you to write for me," he says.

"Why?" she asks. "Don't you know how to read and write?"

Toris looks away, sheepish. Oh, he... really doesn't.

"Uh... alright then," she said. He gives her such a grin she squirms. "I mean, you're a kidnapper, so I really should try and keep you somewhat happy in case you whip me or something. But don't think this means I'm okay with all this."

Toris just keeps smiling. "That's alright. I won't hurt you, just... do what you think is best."

His hand is coming up to cradle her face, and she brushes him off. "Could you not touch me?"

He obeys, raising his hands and surrender. She sighs and takes the ink and paper.

"What am I even meant to be writing, anyway?"

"Oh, my rules and stuff. Statutes, I guess." She raises an eyebrow, as she really doesn't have a clue what his rules are. "Don't worry, I'll talk you through it," he says.

"Alright then," she says. "What do you want me to write, specifically?"

He sighs. "Just start with a title, like..."

She starts to write something about a statute of Lithuania, and feels his hand close over hers. "What is it?" she says, annoyed and yanking her hand back. "Is that not good enough?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're writing," he reminds her. "It's just – your handwriting looks very beautiful."

"...You're so creepy."

* * *

><p>"...Why are you in my room?"<p>

"Miss Belarus!" he turns around, shocked. "Oh, uh, Russia sent me up here to clean. He said you had too much work to do."

She crosses her arms over herself defensively. "Big brother wouldn't do that," she says. "You have no right to be here; get out!"

"...Alright, but I'll have to hide from Russia – he doesn't like being disobeyed."

She snorts at his attempts to deceive her – then takes note of the fact he is wearing an apron, of all things, so either he's telling the truth or anticipated the fact she might catch him. She doesn't want to think about it anymore, so she shakes her head and gestures toward the door.

He stands up and makes his way out, and when he's no longer obstructing her view she sees the pile of letters lying on her desk, open for all the world to see. She raises a hand to her mouth. "LITHUANIA!"

"Belarus?" he comes back, clearly hanging on her every word. She balls her fists.

"Did you find these? Read them?" She turns around to look at him, and he squirms uncomfortably.

"Well... yes, but, Belarus–"

"GET OUT! You have absolutely no right to read those, now leave before I chop off your testicles and make them into windowsill decorations!"

There's a pause. "He doesn't love you," Lithuania says quietly.

"..._What_?"

"Russia doesn't love you. He's _terrified_ of you; he's admitted it more than once. He'll never love you the way you love him."

"The way he loves you, you mean?" she shoots back, before she collapses onto her desk chair, staring at the paper below – so many nights trying to find the perfect words for how she feels, knowing she'd never send them to Russia but nonetheless needing to let it out somehow. _He knows nothing. Big brother does love you, and he will always protect you; he just doesn't understand things fully._

In the mirror, she sees Lithuania walking closer to her. She freezes as he lays a hand on her shoulder. "Not at all," he says. She tenses further. "Bela–"

She swings around and punches him in the face, hard.

* * *

><p>The room becomes her own. Most of the time, she's not even chained up. He locks her bedroom door at night and has guards watch over her during the day, but still. She's not in anyway happy with her circumstances, but she supposes she can live with her possession. What choice does she have?<p>

She dreams of her siblings. When they were – well, no, they weren't that close really. But they would _together, _and big sister promised she could protect her. Why didn't Katyusha protect her?

There is snow in her dreams. In her dreams, Ivan takes that scarf Katyusha gave him and gives it to Natalya instead. Brave, noble Ivan, who always wanted them all to be happy and together; he would do anything to keep that. Natalya misses him so badly, and just wishes he would hold her and tell her it's going to be okay, and that she _will_ get out of here.

But the snow wins; it overpowers her siblings, and separates her from them. Those Mongol barbarians are looming in the background, and she runs, only to trip and land in the dark.

When she wakes up, she sees white across the room from her and panics that it's come for her here too. When her head clears a little, she realises she's inside and that makes absolutely no sense, not to mention the weather probably isn't capable of schemes and stalking.

Then she starts to wonder what that white actually _is_.

It's a suspicious patch on her chair, and she rolls herself off her side to get up and inspect it.

It doesn't take much thinking.

It's white (as she mentioned) and slimy; smells like sweat and something salty. She knows some facts of the world (even if she supposes she shouldn't), and she can _tell_ what that is. _What did he do...?_ She wants to be sick.

* * *

><p>Belarus is trying to clean the upper wing of the house. None of them really go here, so she knows there's no real purpose to it, but maybe if she puts in the effort to take care of it <em>anyway<em> Big Brother will appreciate her dedication and stop building holes in the ceilings for him to hide in when he sees her coming. It's worth a try, at least.

She's taking a damp sponge to the dusty door which leads to the dustier attic that is mostly full of obsolete or overly-bloody weaponry, when she hears something from inside the room. A moan, low and languid, and smothered as if someone knows they're not meant to make sound.

With a frown, she presses her ear closer to the door to try and determine who this person is and whether or not they are a threat to her plan to impress Big Brother Russia. As the sounds get clearer, she hears a sharp "Oh!"

Her breath hitches. It sounds like – like Lithuania, that bastard, and that does not sound like a gasp of pain...

Her knees start to go weak and her stomach starts to churn; she has to dig her nails into the door simply to stay upright.

And then he starts chanting.

"Bela, Bela, Bela," he calls, loudly every time. "_Bela_. Bela, Bela, beautiful Bela, Bela, Bela, more, _Bela_."

She can't control it. Her legs give way and she sinks to the ground, slackjawed. And it doesn't _stop_; he just keeps calling for her, doing god knows what to himself to the thought of her, and she has to hold onto her legs for fear they might flee in sheer repulsion. Bile rises in her throat, she bites into her lip again and again, her whole body tremors. She does not cry, thank god. But she cannot force herself to move, letting the sounds of this disgusting pervert fill her brain until she feels like she's in a coma. She curls up, and hears.

The wetness from her sponge drips onto her dress.

* * *

><p>Her chair is surprisingly heavy. It didn't look that sturdy. Nonetheless, she drags it with her, clenching her fingers on it when the rage and nausea gets too strong.<p>

She finds Toris in the dining room, calmly biting into bread. She throws the chair to the floor, with a crash that makes him jump. "What the hell is this?"

"Natalya!" He wears his usual concerned and innocent face. "Are you okay?"

"No I'm not fucking okay!" she yells, and she raises her hands defensively when he steps toward her. "There is – fucking _come_ on my chair, okay, and I don't just drag strange men back to my room, so it really should not be there, and – what did you do to me?"

He sighs, as if she is nothing more than a whining child. "Natalya, I didn't do anything _to_ you."

"Well, sure as hell I wasn't responsible for–"

"Well, yes, I was responsible for _that_," he says. "But, as we agreed. I didn't touch you. You're just... beautiful, Natalya. It didn't seem so wrong, just to look at you and... I didn't think you'd even know. You were meant to be asleep."

Oh god, she really is going to throw up. "Are you crazy?" she asks, flailing around wildly. "I'm not just some – _whore_ you can use to gratify yourself, okay? Even if you didn't touch me, it is not okay to be sneaking into my room in the middle of the night and using me as some kind of..."

"I don't really see how it makes a difference," he says flippantly, taking a step towards her. "I mean, the way I feel about you... It would have happened no matter where I was. Does it really change anything that I did it with more than my imagination?"

"Yes," she says.

"Why?"

She hesitates. She's _right_, she knows she is, but she's not sure how to answer that question. While she's trying to figure it out, she finds Toris has walked up to her and is now trying to raise a hand to her face gently. "Don't touch me!" she yells, pushing him away.

Toris frowns. Suddenly, he reaches forward and yanks on her hair, hard. "Ow!" she cries, but he keeps her still. When she looks up at him, she sees a smile that would be kind on anyone else.

"Natalya, if it hurts you so badly, I won't do it again." He caresses her cheek as he says this, and she shudders violently. "I only want you do be happy."

He kisses her on the forehead, and she almost does vomit. She represses it though, because as much as she would like to cover him with sick it would only anger him (and it would probably get all over her too). He doesn't notice anything, anyway.

"Stay right there," he says, finally letting her go. "I'll make you some breakfast."

He walks back into the kitchen, and she wipes at her eyes. She won't cry for him. Angry and frustrated, she kicks the chair she dragged her to the side before grabbing his breakfast and throwing it in the bin.

* * *

><p>"Miss Belarus? What are you doing?" The two Baltics who aren't Lithuania have walked in, not that she bothers to make eye contact.<p>

"I'm preparing lunch for brother Russia," she answers quickly, darting over to the other bench. "Leave me alone."

"I think that's actually our job," says Estonia.

"N-not to mention, it's only ten in the morning," says the other one – Latvia – the small one who's always shaking.

"Ten-oh-seven, to be specific."

She still doesn't look at them. "I want it to be ready early, alright? And other people will just ruin it. Go."

"Miss Belarus? Are you alright?"

She looks down, and finds her hands are starting to shake on the bowl. And the bowl's contents aren't proper food at all – a lumpy mess; brother Russia would never be impressed by that! "I..." _Don't! You want to be good for Big Brother, remember? Make him care for you. Make him protect you._

Estonia sighs and steps forward. "How about you go sit down? We'll make lunch."

"No!" she shouts. "I – I have to take care of Big Brother, and this is _his – _him_ –_ job too, and I won't let him..."

_Control this. Control me. Win my brother._

Estonia and Latvia seem very, very confused. "Belarus, you really, really should sit down," says Estonia.

"H-how about we make the lunch, and t-tell Russia you did?" suggests Latvia. "I – um – think you're not quite in the state for it."

She hesitates. She wants so badly to be able to do this for her brother, make things better for him so he'll never have any reason to leave her, but... She can't. Not now. She has no real reason to trust these two, but she decides to anyway.

"Alright," she says. "Just don't let your brother help if he shows up."

"He's not our brother," says Estonia.

"Why?" asks Latvia.

Belarus shakes her head. She won't respond to that. "Do you think there is something else Big Brother would want me to do?"

Estonia and Latvia share a look. "Um... you could try cleaning?" says Estonia.

_Bela, Bela, beautiful Bela, Bela, Bela, more, Bela._

"No."

The two look at each other again. Idiots, they don't understand anything. "Miss Belarus, you're – you're shaking again."

The spatula in her hand is quivering and getting bits of dough on her. She tosses it aside. "Well, start then," she says before storming out.

* * *

><p><strong>Historical Notes:<strong> In the 13th Century, the Kievan Rus fell apart thanks to various incursions from Central Asia (most notably, the invasion of the Mongols), and the land comprising modern-day Belarus (and the Belarusians who lived there) were taken by the Grand Duchy of Lithuania thanks to a combination of military conquest and dynastic marriages.

The Lithuanian people didn't actually have their own written language at that point; they used the Ruthenian language (predecessor to modern day Ukrainian and Belarusian) until it was later replaced by Polish. The three Statutes of Lithuania are written in Ruthenian.


	2. Chapter 2

**Beloved (or, if Nobody Wins, Who Writes History?)**

He keeps to his word, again. She doesn't find any more suspicious stains on her furniture. Now, she just has to anticipate what next terrifying thing he'll do.

She doesn't pay all that much attention to his politics. He makes her spend most of her time working like a peasant, since most of her people _are_ peasants. Still, when he's away for so long, and there are so many overcomplicated conversation to overhear in the middle of the night, she comes to the conclusion something's happening. Once she's finished rejoicing the fact he's gone so much (unfortunately, he's fortified the doors and gotten more guards, so it's not like she can make a break for it just because he's not here).

One day, she's minding her own business (sewing herself a new dress, one distinctly unrevealing and not particularly flattering), when Toris comes in. "Natalya?"

"What do you want?" she asks. "Besides the obvious."

He actually smiles at that. "Natalya, there's someone I need you to meet. Poland...?"

She frowns, and soon a man walks in through the door. "Hey," he says. In fact, now she thinks about it 'man' may be overstating it a little. He looks almost like a woman, and sounds a lot like one too. However, the shape of his body assures her he is in fact a man (not to mention, she doubts if her were a woman he'd command enough respect to get specifically introduced to anyone). "So you're like, Natalya, right? I'm Feliks. The Kingdom of Poland." He stands a little straighter.

"Hi. Yes, I'm Natalya." Then she turns to Toris. "Okay, is there any purpose to this? Or are you just dragging your friends in to annoy me and stop me working?"

"Natalya, there's a _lot _of purpose to this," says Toris. He sighs. "Poland and I... Our monarchs got married recently. So I suppose we have some kind of... union?."

"I see... so, you're kind of married?"

Poland looks somewhere between amused and uncomfortable, and Toris coughs awkwardly. "Our monarchs are. We're just... our countries have... become one."

"Uh-huh." She knows she shouldn't get her hopes up, but – Toris _marrying_ someone else, anyone else, has to be a sign that his obsession with her is easing, right? And if his obsession ends, maybe he'll let her go.

She's snapped out of her reverie by another voice from the doorway. "Natalya?"

Poland looks worried. "Whoa, Kat–"

"Natalya!" She is suddenly assaulted by someone flinging their arms around her and holding on tight, crying on her shoulder – when Natalya pays attention, she gasps. Only one person has breasts that unnecessarily large. "...Katayusha?" she whispers, scarcely able to believe it.

Katayusha pulls back, nodding and smiling tearfully. "Yes. It's me. And – Natalya, you look as beautiful as ever." Katayusha kisses her on the forehead, and and Natalya smiles herself.

Poland gives them a look. "...Erm, is this a private moment? 'Cause we could leave you alone."

Natalya glares at him from over Katayusha's shoulder. "She's my sister."

"Oh," says Poland, and Natalya turns back to her.

"Where is Brother Ivan?"

Katayusha visibly deflates. "...He is separate now. Not ruled by anyone. Did you not know?"

"...Oh." She's sure, on some level, she did know. She just forced herself to forget it. Because Ivan – it always seemed like he could protect her, let her stay with him if he got the chance. Katayusha was meant to do that, but in the end, it fell apart.

Still, she is reunited with her sister, and she should be grateful.

However, the look on Toris's face gives he pause. "Poland, could you please take your territory...?"

Natalya gapes. He can't!

"Toris – It's alright, I'll let you see her later," Toris tell her as Katayusha slowly pulls herself up and away. "I just think we have to stay separate while doing this whole integration thing. It won't take long, I promise."

"...I see."

"Um, alright then," says Poland. "'Kay, let's go then Kat."

"Goodbye, sister! I will see you again!" Katayusha calls as she has to leave with Poland, and Toris lays a hand on Natalya's shoulder.

"Well, I wasn't quite expecting that."

Natalya swallows. "Neither was I."

* * *

><p>"Belarus?"<p>

She looks up. "Sister, hello," she says. "Come here, help me with these clothes."

She's pushing clothes into soapy water, and Ukraine comes over to help her. "So... how are you, sister?"

""I'm fine," she answers.

Ukraine nods. "The Baltic states said you had been acting strangely lately."

She clenches her hands in the water. "All of them?"

"...I'm not sure."

Belarus shakes her head. "Whatever."

"...Sister, is there something wrong!"

"No!" she insists. "I am perfectly fine, and would rather you work than interrogate me."

There's a pause. "...Do you remember being independent, Bela?"

She snorts. "I was only independent for a year, sister, and most of the world didn't even agree; I hardly think that counts."

"...Uh-huh," says Ukraine. "Well... I don't know."

"I'm happy here," she says. "Brother Russia takes care of us, doesn't he?"

Ukraine winces. "Bela..."

"What?"

She sighs. "Nothing. Just... be careful."

"Of what?"

* * *

><p>She's fairly certain she doesn't have much freedom. She's spoken to Katyusha, and apparently Poland acts better than Toris has ever done to her. Not that it's surprising. Poland is less <em>insane<em>, so these things happen.

Natalya's busying herself with farmwork outside when Toris approaches her. Despite herself, she can't help but recoil from the height of his figure above her. "Did you want something?"

"This work. Why do you still do it?" he asks. "I haven't asked you to; plenty of servants around the house could – why do you do this?"

She shrugs. "It's what my people do. I won't ignore them for what makes my life easier."

"That's not true. You do have nobility who have never done this sort of thing–"

"And also who have all run off with your friend, and forgotten all about me. Yeah, I'll stick with the serfs."

There's a pause. "Anyway, I needed to ask you for something."

"I don't know what I have that you haven't already taken, but–"

"I need more money."

"And I am meant to help–"

"I mean in the form of taxation," he explains.

She gulps hard. _My people don't want to be here; the only ones who even live good lives are the ones who've forgotten about me, why do you think you can–_

"Very well," she says. "This will be mostly symbolic, but my purse is in the chair a little that way," she points vaguely west. He looks confused.

"You won't resist?"

She grits her teeth. "You own me and my people. What would be point."

Toris leans over slightly, threading his fingers through her hair, and she cringes away. _Fuck. What did he just think I meant...?_

"Thank you," he says. "You'll understand someday."

"Just take the money and let me work."

* * *

><p>"I love you, you know."<p>

She almost drops her big brother's plate.

She gasps and catches it immediately, trying to face Lithuania at the same time. He seems somewhat amused. "So, I can still surprise you?"

"Of course I am not surprised." How could she be; he only spent the best part of five centuries telling her that, after all. "But why are you saying this now?"

He shrugs. "Look, Bela, I know what happened was... But, well... we're not exactly captor and prisoner anymore. We're both just... here. And I thought, if I told you, things could be _better_ this time, that's all."

She narrows her eyes, and he takes a few cautious steps forward.

She spits in his face.

"You have no idea what Big Brother does for you, for all of us, and you should watch your filthy mouth," she tells him. "And you will never speak of that time when I was part of your land _again_. It is ancient history, do you understand? Your glory days are gone."

"Bela..."

Her nerves are seizing and to comfort herself, she reaches behind for a sturdy kitchen knife and aims it at him.

"Go away now."

"Belarus, calm down–!"

"Leave. Go do whatever it is you're meant to be good for anyway."

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?"<p>

"Ah!" A hand grabs her wrist and waist and she falls down quickly. Toris holds onto her and no matter how she struggles, she can't escape the grip.

"I said," he spins her around, disturbingly close to her face, "what are you doing?"

She looks up at her open window; the maps lying about. "I was escaping, what does it look like?" She says defiantly.

His nails dig into her sides, and she forces herself not to wince. "Why?" he asks.

She snorts. "After all this time, do you really need to ask?" He grabs tighter. "Could you stop that? It hurts."

He raises a hand to her face. "Natalya, why?" he says. "After all this time, haven't you accepted things?"

She glares. "You hold me captive. You oppress my people. You're disturbingly obsessed with me. I... I can't even see my brother when I'm with you." She trails off at the end, stinging like she always does when she allows herself to think of her brother. "Why should I accept you?"

His face twists into an ugly snarl. He grabs her tighter and slams her against the wall.

"Is that what you want? To go running back to _him_?" he shouts. Natalya's taken by surprise, and struggles against his grip. "Do you think he'd be better to you than me? No. Natalya, he is _insane_. He would destroy you. You must know that."

"Because you have so much credibility when it comes to determining sanity – _ow_!" He grips harder, determined to bruise, and she can't help but flinch. "Stop, you're hurting me!"

"You're hurting yourself," he whispers. She stares. "You have to stay with us. You won't be treated better anywhere else. Certainly not with him."

"I'll take me chances," she says. "Besides, I don't _know_ where Ivan is. I wasn't even running to him."

"...Then where were you going?"

She sighs. "...Some of my people – the rich ones, those few who haven't forgotten about me – have made their own settlements. The people are running to them. I thought, might as well."

"...Really? After all this time, you chose to try and escape now?"

"I represent my people."

Toris lets her go. She slumps down against the wall.

"Wait here," he says as he gets up to close the window. "The guards will get here soon, and they'll escort you back to your room. I will have to restrict your freedoms for awhile, you understand."

"How completely and utterly surprising."

* * *

><p>"Why is he here?"<p>

Belarus stares suspiciously through the doorway, where the Prussia is lying on their couch. He seems scratched and bruised.

"He tried to escape again," she hears Lithuania's voice coming from behind her, and jumps. "Russia brought him here too... punish him, I suppose."

Lithuania's eyes are strange, and Belarus starts to get that feeling she gets when she's alone with him for too long. So she puts an end to it.

"Very well then," she says.

And she struts out to where Prussia lies.

"Why are you on our couch?" she asks bluntly.

He shrugs. "Hey, I'm a satellite state. I should get perks. Couch counts," he raises a bottle to his lips. "So does booze."

She rolls her eyes and sits down next to him. "So, I heard you try to escape again."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

He gives her a look. "Why do I always try to escape? Why does anyone? I don't wanna be here."

"You're ungrateful," she says. "After all Brother Russia has done for us all..."

He snorts. "You're kidding, right?"

"No. Why?"

"Seriously? That's actually what you think? 'Cause, uh, I came here before your bro got me like this, and I remember – when we showed up, your people weren't so fond of being with 'Brother Russia'. I mean, _before_ we went all psycho on you. Sorry 'bout that, by the way."

She stiffens. "That was my people, not me."

"Don't think there's meant to be that much of a difference."

She doesn't know what to say to that. So she says nothing.

He offers the the bottle. "Drink."

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>"Sister, you cannot seriously be considering doing this."<p>

Katyusha looks tired, and hurt, and sighs. "What choice do we have?"

"We can say _no_." Poland and Toris have sent Katyusha to her to convince her to do this, this conversion, away from her actual faith, but she refuses to let it work.

They can take everything from her but God.

"It wouldn't be good to fall so heavily under Moscow's control," Katyusha says, fidgeting with the buttons of her dress. "That's why they're doing it, really."

"I'd rather be under our brother's control than those bastards!" Natalya shouts. "I never wanted to leave, remember."

Katyusha sighs. "I don't think Ivan would treat you much kinder than now. Things have... changed. From what I understand, Poland treats me a lot better than Ivan treats, well..."

"_Poland_ does," Natalya says, trying not to choke. "You don't know me. What happens... Toris is a madman with an obsession; you must know that."

"Yes, but..." Katyusha sighs. "If we can't escape, is there really much of a point in resisting?"

Natalya swallows hard. She knows the sort of thing Toris truly wants from her, and maybe if she just gave in he would...

"Yes. There's a point. There _must_ be."

Katyusha bites her lip. "I see," she says. "Then, I guess we must agree to disagree."

* * *

><p>She catches him on his knees, eyes closed, hands together in front of his face.<p>

It takes her a moment to remember what that means.

"Lithuania! What on Earth are you doing?"

"Belarus!" he snaps out of it, staring at her like she's the wolf and he's the lamb. "Oh – please don't tell Russia about this!"

She should. She should tell her brother and let him punish Lithuania for such a disobedience; this is exactly what their true beliefs fight against, and she can't just let him get away with...

But she needs to know. Something. She's not sure what.

"I shall not tell him." And she looks away before he can possibly give her that sickening expression again; the one that makes him seem like an innocent child. "But what are you... praying? You know we have no religion; that the ideas of Marx and Engels and Lenin..."

"I know, I know," he says. "I just... I believe."

She nods slowly. "I see," she says. "Your friends do not."

"I know that," he says. "What about you?"

"I believe what we are told to," she says. "For and in the glory of the USSR."

He smiles slightly. There's an awkward pause.

"Do you ever pray for me?"

He coughs. "Pardon?"

She inhales. "Do you ever pray for me?"

"...What exactly do you mean by 'for'?"

"I'm not sure," she says honestly. "You might have to just tell me."

He sighs, and turns away from her again. "I wish things would change for you, sometimes," he says. "The way you are... You'll tear yourself apart someday, Belarus. That or Russia will."

"I do not need your protection. I wouldn't accept it."

"That's good, because I don't have much to offer."

* * *

><p>"So what are we doing now?"<p>

"Hey!" Poland comes bursting through the door, Toris trailing fast behind. Natalya narrows her eyes. "So, we, uh, really need to talk to you about something."

She folds her arms over her chest. "What?"

Toris and Poland share a look. "We have an idea," says Poland.

"An offer."

"Okay, so you guys are like, sisters or whatever, and kinda function together because... whatever."

"But technically you're part of us," Lithuania says. "And you're separate."

"Is there a point to this?"

"Sister." Katyusha squeezes her hand, and Natalya gives her a look.

"What? I want to hear the important bit."

"Anyway," says Lithuania, "we decided... we should make you a separate part."

"The Duchy of Ruthenia. That's what you're called when we put you together, right?" Poland asks.

"Anyway, you would be – well, another Duchy. Still part of the Commonwealth, of course, but... how does that sound?"

"I – that sounds fantastic!" Katyusha's wearing that creepy grin again; the one that makes it seem like her face might split in half. Some part of Natalya wants to do the same, but she remembers – this is Toris. The madman.

"What's the catch?"

"Huh?" Poland looks a little hurt.

"Don't worry; my question's directed at him more than you," she says, before narrowing her gaze on Toris. "A little more freedom would mean the world to me; you know that. What exactly are you expecting of me in return for this?"

Poland looks awkwardly at her sister, who shrugs. Toris sighs and steps forward. "Nothing, Natalya."

She raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"You and I both know how I feel about you," he says. "I won't let you go. But... I don't expect your feelings for me to change anytime soon. And I... I do want you to be happy. Happier, at least. So if somewhat more freedom will do that... very well."

"Er... okay, weird," Poland feels the need to commentate.

"You're buying me off," Natalya tells him. "Giving me 'a little' freedom to make me behave?"

"Sister," Ukraine squeezes her hand again.

"Of course," Toris tells her. "Question is, do you accept?"

"Well, yes." And she finds herself _smiling_. "Thank you."

* * *

><p>"Bela?"<p>

She sighs in annoyance. "What is it? I'm working."

"You've been doing the laundry for hours."

"There's a lot of laundry."

Ukraine comes closer to her. "Um, your hands are bloody and that's getting into the water."

"What?" She looks down. "Fuck! Shit, what is Brother going to say?"

"Don't worry about that," Ukraine says quickly – too quickly. She pulls Belarus's hands out of the water fast enough to make her jump. "I mean... I'll redo the laundry, don't you worry about it. Russia needn't know. Just... you need to rest."

"I'm not tired."

"It's almost three in the morning."

She inhales deeply. "Brother wanted me to do the laundry."

"Brother gave you at least eight tasks today; he gave me nothing. You should have asked for help."

"He would have punished us."

"Not if he didn't know."

"This is practically treason!" she yells. God, Ukraine is an idiot. "Russia has us. We do what he says, and we are thankful for his protection. That's how it is."

She turns back to her work, trying not to hiss at the soapy water against her cuts. How did she manage that anyway?

"Bela, please, _stop_."

Ukraine sounds like she's about to cry again. Slowly, Belarus obeys. Ukraine wears that broken face she always does – god, if she could only stop it hurting when he sister looks like that.

"...Look, I'm just trying to do my work. You should be doing the same," she says.

"I have no work. Even the three boys have less. Bela, why do you think Brother Russia does this to you?"

She stiffens at the mention of them – and by implication, _him_. "I suppose I am more trustworthy than you all. I can't imagine why he would think that."

"Bela, he's hurting you!"

Rage surges and she slaps her sister across the face. Little streaks of blood land on Ukraine's face, and her eyes are all full of tears now. Of _course_.

"Belarus..."

"Brother takes care of us, and you should be careful," she says. "And don't you dare talk as if – as if this is some kind of battle, and we're opposing Ivan, and they and _he_ is on our side–"

"Is that what this is about? Him?" Ukraine asks. "Bela... I know your relationship with Toris has been, well, troubled," she says. "But I thought you may have come to terms. It's been over a century."

"I have come to terms," Belarus tells her. "Didn't you see how many times I have held a knife to that man's throat?"

Ukraine winces. "Belarus, don't."

"I am okay with my life," she says. "Don't treat me like a madwoman for it."

Ukraine inhales heavily. "Belarus, you cannot possibly pretend Russia's treatment of us is right, can you."

"We're meant to be with him."

"But look at me and tell me he has treated us well," Ukraine pleads. "Surely you can't be so ignorant that..."

Belarus stares. Dammit, her sister wants an _answer_ and...

"He's done what he's done," he says. "He's our brother and we should love him. We should do what he says. It would do you could to remember that. Now, you may take over the laundry if you wish. Thank you, in fact. I have two more tasks to do before I can go to bed."

* * *

><p><strong>History Notes:<strong> The land occupying present-day Belarus belonged to Lithuania. The land occupying most of modern-day Ukraine belonged to Poland. With the union of the two, the Belarusians and Ukrainians were brought back together.

The Belarusians under Lithuanian rule enjoyed considerably less freedom than the Ukrainians under Polish rule. Most of the local nobility was assimilated to the Polish gentry. The people in the lands of the Duchy had their few social freedoms restricted and their taxation increased, which caused many to flee to scarcely populated lands; sometimes settlements put up by other magnates.

Religious conflicts happened. The Polish-Lithuanian rule was now Roman Catholic, and the Ruthenian lands were Eastern Orthodox. The Orthodox hierarchy broke links with the Patriarch of Constantinople and placed themselves under the Pope, sort of like a conversation. A lot of people resisted this though, and the Eastern Orthodox religion was still around, so I divided it between the sisters.

In the 17th century, it was proposed that the Ruthenian lands become their own duchy, making the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth the Polish-Lithuanian-Ruthenian Commonwealth. This never happened. More on that later.

People in East Germany tried to escape and go to the west a lot. And official communist theory advocates atheism.


	3. Chapter 3

"There you are; could you please tell me what the hell is going on–" She doesn't even get to finish her sentence before Toris drags her up, by the _hair,_ slamming her against the wall.

She's confused. She woke up this morning in one of the dungeon cells, where she has never been held, even when she was first captured, or after her many escape attempts. She was in a new section of the house with Katyusha, in preparation for the impending transfer; what happened?

"...Ow. Okay, seriously, what's going on? Where's my sister? Why am I in the dungeon– agh!"

He twists her hair again, hard, and it hurts. "Your brother came for you," he murmurs.

"...What?"

He pushes her back roughly and she flinches. "There was a war," he says. "He wanted to get you back. He almost..."

Natalya's mind races as she tries to understand this; she hasn't seen her brother since the _thirteenth century_ – "Ivan!" she calls out, thoughtlessly trying to break past and find him, to _escape. _Of course Toris stops her; he grabs her and squeezes brutally, and she cringes in pain. Her barely notices, the crazy bastard.

"Knew it," he says. "I knew you'd go running to him, want to escape. I dragged you here for a reason."

"Don't play victim," she snarls. "You have held me here for the last four hundred years, pretty clearly against my will, and – and he's my _brother_, so don't act like this is some unexpected–"

"God, you're an idiot!" He throws her against the wall again, harder this time, and she hisses. The cell is build from stone, rather roughly. "Do you – you don't even remember your brother, do you? What do you think he'd do, if he were in my position, because believe me not all people have my restraint."

He snarls in her face and she holds her breath. She tries to stay composed, though. "I don't know. What _would_ he do?" There's a pause, and she makes herself smirk (even if she's locked up and just a little terrified, best to make him feel as powerless as possible). "What would you do, if you weren't so fucking _moral_?"

He steps back and slaps her across the face.

She only takes a moment to recoil. "See? Morality."

He punches her this time.

"You should be grateful."

This is insane, even for him. Most of the time, his is a slow crazy. She wonders how far she can push it. "Guess so. Why don't you give it a few more goes; y'know, teach me a lesson?"

He grabs her by the arms and throws her to the floor.

"Fuck," she mutters. She's starting to feel the burn, the pain from where he hit her. She wonders if Katyusha will ask her questions. She wonders if that Poland man will ask _him_. She doubts it; he's never seemed to care much for how Toris treats her.

"I've tried to help you," he mutters, kneeling on the floor. He's going back into that soft mode he's usually in, the one that makes everyone think he's so much better than any other power with a colony. Idiots. "Natalya... if only you could appreciate... If you'd accepted this a long time ago, things would be so much easier."

She swallows hard, not quite daring to raise herself on the floor. "Yes, because all this oppression and captivity. Very helpful."

He shakes his head. "You have had money, you have had culture. Many worse things have happened. Believe me, if I fall and can no longer protect you – Russia _will_ get you. And then you will understand me so much better."

He pushes himself back up, and she sits again when his back is turned. There are things she wants to yell, something like _don't pretend your reasons have ever been anything but selfish and obsessive!_ But she has a question to ask. "Where is Katyusha? We were meant to be together for now, in preparation for the new duchy, remember?"

"She's with Poland. Russia came for her too, but Poland's okay with things," he says. "That duchy won't be going ahead now. If I'm this close to losing you, I shouldn't push it further."

An overwhelming wave of anger and _illness_ suddenly crushes through her. This was – the one decent thing he ever did, to give her some kind of freedom, and now... "But that's not fair!" she cries like a child. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"But you would have if you'd known. You'd have wanted Russia to take you away. Idiot."

His smile is affectionate again, and she has to avert her eyes. _That's not wrong,_ she tells herself, but nothing will come of telling him that. "...I thought you wanted me to be happy," she says, looking back at him cautiously.

He looks at her blankly. "I want you to be happy with me. You'll understand one day."

He walks out the door, locking it behind himself. She collapses on the floor, too tired to keep fighting when he's not even here. Suddenly the emotions start so sink in, because _Ivan_–

Oh god, Brother was _here_ and he could have _saved_ her, and Katyusha too no doubt, she was so close to getting out of here and she didn't even _know_ until it was too late. It's _too late_.

Tears start prickling and she closes her eyes. _Don't be pathetic_. It happened and it's a disappointment and she must move on, live in this, like she has done for the last four fucking hundred years.

But for now, she lies in a dark, cold stone cell without even a bed, and pretends its _not_ too late and her brother will come rescue her soon.

* * *

><p>She hears a hissing from the bathroom off in the left wing, far too close to her brother's house, and morbidly curious ventures in.<p>

What she finds is none too unexpected. Lithuania, shirtless and covered in fresh wounds upon the back, which have torn open semi-healed scars too. He is clumsily trying to apply some lotion, tears welling in his eyes from the pain. _Weak_.

"Belarus," he says, catching her by surprise. He smiles stupidly. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"I heard a hissing in here. If an animal died, the smell would be around for weeks."

"Ah."

"What happened?"

"Russia. As always."

She nods. Her face remains blank.

"You're not surprised?"

"No." She understands perfectly well why her beloved Brother would want to make this bastard suffer. "I've seen things before. I've had to get the blood out of your clothes. What do I have to be surprised about?"

He looks back at the mirror. "But he's never done anything like this to you, right?"

"No. Why would he?"

The blood seeps down his back, making its own pretty little trails. "I don't know. Why do you think he does it to me?"

She can't hold it back. "You deserve it."

She can see his cringing in the mirror. She could almost say the blood starts to run faster at her words, although she's not sure that's actually possible. _Pathetic._ She refuses to feel guilty for causing him more suffering – this is Lithuania, and what she says is truth. He deserves everything Russia does to him, everything she could do to him, and more besides.

"Oh," he says, struggling to keep his tone light. He sounds like he'll cry as soon as she's not here to listen. "Then I suppose I can't convince you to help me with the wounds?"

"Do you think you can trick me _again_?" she asks with a furious snarl, trying to fight off the wave of nausea that comes when she imagines it, having to touch his bare skin and help him... "No. This is one thing you will simply have to deal with yourself; I don't concern myself with the plight of animals."

She runs out of the room and into the middle hallway. She knows Russia is hiding under the floorboards there tonight, and she won't try and get him out for now, but she has to feel close to him just for a few minutes so she doesn't throw up.

* * *

><p>She understands that things are going badly for him. The schadenfreude is vaguely undermined by the fact when things go badly for him, things sort of start going badly for the rest of them.<p>

Tonight, he makes her dine with him, sitting across a table with candles and fine food. Like he is genuinely trying to romance her, or like this is some kind of anniversary celebration. She wonders if this is what he always wanted, really; the way he would have treated her if she hadn't always been so determined to defy him and everything he asked of her.

They don't make much conversation. They don't really have anything to talk about, as for all his obsession with her over the years they don't seem to have much in common. Not for the first time, she wonders why he is so obsessed with her to begin with. He saw her once and decided she must be his forever. Was he following her before that? Did he see her with her family and decide she belonged somewhere else? She shivers and tries to block off the thoughts. They don't even matter, really.

"Do you like the meal?" Toris asks her, focusing her attention again. She hesitates.

"...It's edible." Of course, the food is fantastic, but she refuses to show her appreciation. Not to him. It doesn't seem to work, in any case, by the way he smiles at her.

"That means good to you, correct?" It doesn't seem like he needs an answer, so she just ignores it. She eats the food (fuck, it is really good).

"...Maybe," she says. It feels too much like giving up, but she's tired of trying to come up with excuses for everything ever.

He smiles softly at her, and she avoids his eyes. "I understand, Natalya," he says. "I've gotten used to equating how you actually feel about things with what you say."

She gulps. "You don't understand me at all."

He sighs. "Natalya, just eat your dinner?"

After a pause, she concedes and does so.

"So," she says, "I've heard you've been talking to my brother lately."

"Natalya–"

"What? Don't I have the right to ask about that? I do live with you, and he is _my_ brother–"

There's suddenly a smashing sound and Toris has risen to his feet. "God, you're so ungrateful!"

"Toris!"

"Haven't I done _everything_ for you?" he shouts. "I've given you room, and food; I haven't worked you to death; I haven't made you become just like me – most women would be grateful! Grateful! But no, not you, you just try and escape and go on about your beloved brother – and I let you! I've never once punished you for the way you treat me! It's pathetic; I'm pathetic."

_Delusional, maybe_. Has he forgotten it all? How he's taxed her? How he took her people for himself? How he's beaten her for daring not to love him the way he loves her, when she never even wanted to meet him to begin with? "Don't you dare pity yourself," she says and takes another bite. She wants to stay calm.

He yanks her plate away and smashes it too. She jumps. "Don't tell me what to do."

She narrows her eyes. "Why not? It's not like I'm naive enough to believe it'll actually work."

He smiles. It's a soft smile, and it frightens her much more than the yelling. He's just completely unpredictable. "That's right. You think you're so powerless, don't you?" She about to reply with something about having been held captive for the last half a millennium or so, when suddenly he yanks her out of the chair by the wrist. "Really, Natalya, do you think I don't _know_?"

"...Know _what_?"

"Who I am! _What_ I am around you." He starts to laugh, still keeping her firmly in place. "I'm not a bad person, Natalya. I'm far better than anyone else you know. Far, far better than that brother of yours you're still so obsessed with. I mean, what happened to you when he and Sweden invaded... but it's just when I'm around you."

She keeps her head high and her gaze steady. "What the hell are you talking about? And what do you think you're doing, dragging my brother into this?"

"You already dragged him in." He shakes his head, and slowly strokes her face. She doesn't bother flinching; it wouldn't help. "You make me crazy, Natalya. A monster. A madman."

He grabs her by the waist and pulls her in close, making her gasp. "It's all your fault. Don't you even feel guilty?"

She's trying to stay composed, but her breath gets shallow. "That doesn't even make sense," she says, avoiding his eyes. "I'm no angel, but I'm not your guiding light. I'm not responsible for what you do."

He pulls back and pushes her back onto the table. _Ow,_ she thinks but she doesn't cry out. She quickly pushes herself back up again, just to stare at him with contempt. He runs his fingers through his hair. "You are such a bitch."

"You know for all the insults, you've always actually seemed quite fond of me."

He rolls his eyes. "There you go. Again with those sarcastic comments. Don't pretend you're so self-assured – you're a scared little girl, and I'm the one scaring you; we both know that."

"Then what do you want from me? If I'm this horrible woman whose led you on and broken your heart, what exactly am I meant to do to make it all better?"

He goes still and gives her a long, slow, lingering look. "You know what," he whispers.

She clenches her jaw. "No."

He just keeps looking at her for awhile, until a bitter smirk spreads across his face. "Of course. You're special," he says. "You know, anyone else would have just given in by now. Would have made it easier on themselves, if nothing else; given them some kind of control over the situation. But that's you, always with the honour and not the reason. It's actually rather annoying."

"I'm sorry, are you asking me to manipulate you?" she asks, getting increasingly confused by this whole situation. "Or do you think I'm still naive enough to let you trick me into being whatever you want?"

He laughs. "I'm sorry, in what alternate universe are you _not_ naive?" he asks. "Or are you not listening to yourself? Word of advice, people like you – they don't become the powers. They don't get to control their own destiny. Underhanded manipulation is pretty much the only way forward, and you're too damned self-righteous for that. And you still think that one day, your big brother's going to come in and fix it all. And he'll _care_. That you'll still be more than just a bit more territory to a guy who's already invaded pretty much every land he could get his hands on, just because he could," he spreads his hands out like a magician, directing her gaze to some miracle. She looks away, ashamed. "It's not going to happen. You're stuck with me," he says. "I mean, how long has it been so far?"

She looks up, burning with pain and rage and _guilt_. "Oh really? No-one cares about me?" she says, leaning back against the table slowly. "Well, that's not true. You clearly do. And you know what, you're right; I have been decidedly ungrateful. Well, okay then."

She lifts up her skirts and spreads her legs, still avoiding his eyes. There's still lots of _stuff_ on this table, so she brushes it off and makes loud, cluttering, destructive noise – when she looks up, he's just staring.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

"What do you think you're doing?"

She shrugs. "Giving you what you want. If I'm stuck here anyway, why bother resisting, right?"

He seems confused. Bastard, he does not have the right to get confused by this shit. "Why?"

"Didn't I just explain that?" she says, and he's likely about to point something out, but she's not giving him the opportunity to interrupt and (what's the answer to his goddamn question?) make this into another one of those things that he does. Another way to make himself into, somehow, the normal one in this whole fucked up _thing_. "Come on. I doubt you've changed your mind that much. After all this nagging and self-pity you'd think you'd jump at–"

Suddenly her back's on the table and that's harder than she imagined, he's on top of her and she just freezes. She wants to scream. She wants to scream, bite, kick; do whatever it is she's been doing for the last five hundred fucking years to ward him off, and that doesn't even make any sense; she just _told_ him to do this but god only knows she wishes she could remember why.

He pulls back, not far enough that she can see anything past him, but enough that she can't possibly pretend he is anyone else. She holds her breath. "I'd like to make it very clear: you have a choice here," he says. "I'm not forcing you into anything."

She gulps. "Right. You're a stand-up guy; you'd never do anything like that?"

"This was your idea." He snaps into soft mode again (god, she gets sick of his mood swings), stroking her hair gently. She doesn't know what to do. "Are you changing your mind?"

She swallows hard. She wants to cry. She wants to do a lot of things she's been avoiding for the last five hundred years, but she doesn't because fuck it, she doesn't give in to him... all evidence to the contrary. She shakes that thought away and squirms into a more comfortable position on the table. "No. Do what you want. I'm being pragmatic."

"Really?"

She nods. "If I'm stuck with you, this will keep you happy. If not – then I've got something clear to complain about when they come for me."

There's a pause as he brushes her hair away, cups her face and lifts it off the table. And he smiles. "Thank you, Natalya. Thank you."

When he kisses her, she freezes again and she still doesn't know what to do. She has to put up with it. Wasn't that the whole idea? He's not exactly being rough with her, probably because he's still got that whole idea that his feelings for her are noble. But her clothes are coming undone and he isn't pausing at all, and she _wants_ to fight back but she thinks it's useless. Pointless. There is no going back now. She's panicking and she knows it, but if she can just keep her mouth shut for five minutes, she might just figure out whatever the hell it is she was meant to do with all this to begin with.

He grabs her and he pushes her and he touches her, and it's dirty and cold and disgusting and _wet_, but she'll be just fine as long as she can follow what's going on and keep breathing.

* * *

><p>"M-Miss Belarus?"<p>

She jumps a little at the sound but soon realises she's got nothing to worry about; it's the tiny, shaky kid who probably couldn't harm a flea just because he doesn't have the muscle tone. "What do you want?"

As always, Latvia looks like he's about to cry. "I – I was worried about Lithuania."

She avoids his eyes. "Why?"

Latvia hesitates. "I – it's – Russia. I'm frightened."

She snorts. "Of course. Everyone's always so frightened of big brother," _the idiots, why can't they see he's just trying to _help _them–_ "What makes this special?"

Latvia bites his lip. "I – Russia's been focusing so much on Lithuania lately, and he's – well, he's the favourite."

"...Pardon?"

"Russia treats him like–" she's clearly driving the boy even further into the depths of mental illness than usual, but nevermind – "Russia _likes_ him. Wants him, in some way that's more than just... well, uh, I just – with someone like Russia, I worry he'd – do something. If he really wants..."

The boy is clearly desperate for her to step in and stop him having to explain this further, but Belarus says nothing.

She wants to hurt him. Stab him, beat him, anything; _how dare you think brother would do something like that!_ She screams in her head, desperate to force reason into him. Just hearing it physically hurts. She can't breathe.

"Do you really think Russia is capable of that?" she asks quietly.

"Well, y-yes."

She takes a deep breath. _Liar! Idiot!_ "I see," she says. "I don't."

"O-oh," the boy stutters. He seems frightened. _Good_. "I just thought – you may have seen something–"

"I haven't." She doesn't think of those scars running down Lithuania's back. Whatever happened there, he deserved everything he got. "Leave me alone."

"Oh, of – of course, Miss Belarus."

He stands to leave, but she changes her mind. "Latvia – have you ever been in love?"

He turns around, looking confused and more frightened. "N-no, Miss."

She nods. "Good," she says. "You're lucky. It is – terrifying, and consuming. It will destroy you from the inside out. And you will destroy those around you. Be grateful."

"I – I will," he says. She knows he doesn't mean it. "Good – goodbye."

* * *

><p>Afterwards, she panics.<p>

"Oh – oh god." Her dress is ripped and there is... _something_ running down her thighs, and no, no, no.

Toris frowns and reaches out for her. "Natalya–"

"Shut up! Don't touch me!" she tries to pull her dress closer to cover up what she's revealed, but it doesn't work. She's shivering, and almost about to cry (again). He just sighs at her, mildly annoyed.

"I see. What's wrong with you this time?"

She stares at him.

And she starts crying.

Big, heaving sobs that get into her hair and what parts of her clothes are still actually dry. It makes her stomach hurt and her face itch; she tries to stop it, because she promised herself this bastard would never see her cry, but she's been breaking promises to herself left right and centre so why the hell not?

"Natalya," Toris strokes her shoulder, and this time she doesn't even have the energy to stop him. "...I'm sorry."

"Don't." After everything that's happened, how can he possibly say sorry now? "You bastard, this is all your fault."

"No it's not."

She steps away from him, suddenly aware of where she is and who she is. She can't let him touch her, not now (not _more_). But she doesn't know what to say.

"I made it clear, remember?" he says. "I told you. You had a choice. It was your idea to begin with, remember? You can't possibly blame–"

"Shut up!" From all logical viewpoints, she guesses he's right, because it was her idea and she told him to, but – but it's not _fair_ because she hated it and it was what _he_ always wanted, and she only gave in because... she gave in. Why did she give in?

_For the power over him. So I could stop having to fucking fight it every three seconds._ So it can't be her fault. She's been living like this, terrified of him, for the last five hundred centuries and surely she can be forgiven for one moment of weakness?

_But you promised. You said you'd be strong_. That's right to; she told herself she'd resist him, no matter what, because he was wicked and evil and she couldn't reward that. But she has. And now, he'll keep her here forever out of the hope he might pull off the same trick twice with her...

"Natalya?" he asks, looking as innocent as he can. "Are you alright?"

She shakes her head. "No. What did you expect?"

He sighs, disappointed. _How dare he – _It all hurts so much and her head is killing her. The rest of her body is too, and to be frank she's a little worn out from... it. She can't put a word to it; she can barely acknowledge it happened. There's a huge dark space around this place in her memory. _If that's what I think now, how the hell am I going to live with this for the rest of..._

He gently cups her face and she shies away, staring at the food on the floor. God, she made a mess there. After a few efforts to get her to look him in the eyes, he gives up. "Well, call me a fool," he says. "I thought I might be able to prove something."

She shivers violently and when he lets her go, she folds herself up as much as possible. "I want – where is Katayusha?"

He gives her a look. "With Poland, you know that. I won't go get her for you. Do you think you could tell her about this anyway?"

No. No, of course she couldn't. Sweet, protective, _useless_ Katayusha who would be horrified for her and would fight for her, but nothing would change. She won't be just Toris's victim. She's been playing that role in her own head for so long; she can barely remember a time she wasn't, but she won't let that get to other people. She is currently collecting and reshaping the scraps of her pride currently all over the floor with their leftover food.

And what about Ivan? At least Katayusha has been here; she may understand. But Ivan... he would be so ashamed of her. For given in to such a person – after all, Toris said Ivan was an enemy.

She frowns. He said Ivan may come for him – and if he did that, he would come for _her_. She didn't realise that, was overwhelmed by the idea she'd be here forever, and she did... that. If she'd only believed in her brother...

And something suddenly makes sense. She needs to believe in Ivan. He is, and always was, the only thing that could save her.

* * *

><p>There is a meeting, for some reason. They all have to be there; the representatives of each SSR, as well as each country that made that pact in Warsaw.<p>

Things have been confused and disoriented lately. Russia doesn't know what to do; she knows that. He wants things to be better, but he doesn't want to lose them all. Belarus wishes she could help him, but she has no experience with this sort of thing and he'd just run away if she tried in any case.

Poland is giving them all a smug, contemptuous look. Hungary is staring out the window, dreaming of far-away lands unknown. _Ungrateful bastards_.

"Belarus," there's a hand on her shoulder and she jumps a mile high. "Oh, sorry!" says Lithuania. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I was just asking – Russia's late; do you know where he is?"

She's ashamed to say, she doesn't. She looked all over the house for him this morning; she _needed_ to see him (she's never been any good at these meetings) but no matter what she did, she couldn't find him. She even checked all his regular hiding spots in the floor. What happened?

She grits her teeth and answers his question. "I don't know, Lithuania," she says.

"Alright." And he just stays there, hovering above her. She is mildly annoyed with it to begin with, and then it starts to frighten her.

"Do you _want_ something?" she asks.

Vaguely, she's aware they're all beginning to stare at her. _Let them_, she thinks spitefully. She doesn't owe them anything.

"No," he says. "I just didn't move because there are a lot of people here and not much room."

"...Oh." There isn't a lot she can say to that, so she decides to try and ignore him. The people around her are all off in their own little conversations (and largely cowering from her in fear). She pulls herself into her own little cocoon.

But it doesn't work, because she can hear him behind her. She doesn't even know if he's looking at her, but she can sense him; even as he's reassuring Latvia no-one has died as far as they know or reminding Poland exactly how expensive and economically risky dying all wheat produced different colours would actually be, he's still doing it behind her, and the idea of him breathing on her makes her shiver. _God, I'm a mess_.

She knows it's irrational. She's been living with him like this for decades, and at one point or another she must get used to the idea of his presence. Because Russia wants him to stay, and who is she to deny Brother Russia anything?

_Calm down_, she tells herself – he's made some kind of joke to Ukraine, and she's _laughing_ at it, and it's all so unfair. Ukraine was there. Ukraine is her sister. Doesn't she know, what he did? Shouldn't she care? True, it has been a long time, but – she has spent less time free of him than with him, and surely she is allowed to care, even if nobody else does.

But that won't help, it's not what Russia wants of her, so she needs to stop it. She needs to calm down and learn to live with it, and she knows she can; she was stuck with him for five centuries and eventually she adapted–

She grabs the fabric of her dress and digs her nails in. _No. Don't even think about that_. That was a stupid, foolish, angry moment. She was tired. Angry. Alone. No-one can blame her for finally giving in, and it certainly doesn't characterise her entire experience with him. That wouldn't be fair.

"Belarus? Are you okay?" comes his voice from behind her.

"I'd be a lot better if you would go somewhere else," she says. People stare.

Lithuania looks somewhat embarrassed. "Um, Belarus – I already explained this. Is it really that important to you?"

She closes her eyes. _Russia, please come soon. I'm scared._

"I want you out of here."

"Oh jesus christ woman, calm down!" says Poland from the other side of the couch. "We've all gotta be here for the meeting, okay? Deal with it."

She recoils violently. Ukraine reprimands Poland with a finger. _Well, at least she'll stand up for me a little_. "Poland, don't be so harsh," she says. "But Bela – don't you think you're overreacting?"

She glares and turns away. She can't rely on them. Lithuania sighs from behind her. "If – if it's so much of a problem I'll just move."

Belarus snorts at his concession. "What? You'll respect my wishes once people start actually paying attention?"

She spins around to face him. He's uncomfortable. "Belarus – Miss – Natalya–"

"Don't call me that! That's what you always used to call me; don't do it now, because it's over and you can't do it to me again, you can't do any of it, so don't you _dare_ call me that!"

She's on her feet and on the edge of tears, balling her fists and god _dammit_, where is her knife? Everyone is staring now, and the Central Asian nations who were pointing and laughing at the soap opera are now gawping. Latvia is shaking in fear and Estonia is trying to comfort him. Ukraine appears utterly perplexed and saddened.

Lithuania clearly has no idea what to do.

"I – Belarus–" he reaches out for her, "–Natalya, my dear–"

"I am not _your_ dear! I am _not_ yours!"

She pulls back and punches him, hard, barely seeing what she's doing. "Shut up! Just shut up!" she wails on him. "You can't say anything. It's over! You can't have me! I'm not yours, I'm not yours, I'm not–"

Lithuania punches her in return and sends her stumbling backwards, barely staying upright. He looks remarkably self-satisfied. "Are you happy now?"

She raises a hand to her face. Her nerve is gone. "I – I'm not–" she stutters, desperately trying to get the fog in her mind to clear. "I – I'm–"

She latches on to the one thing that has always been able to save her.

"I'm – I'm his."

Lithuania sighs and gives her a look of resignation. She ignores him.

"I'm his."

She runs.

* * *

><p>He is the one chained up now. Russia tells her its only temporary, unfortunately; until Lithuania's spirit is broken. She wants to see him broken. Physically, mentally, emotionally – she wants to see him <em>pay<em>.

She hasn't told Russia this, though. She thinks she might scare him.

She can never let Russia know what really happened when she was stuck with Lithuania. The way he would look at her – even if he didn't blame her at all, she couldn't stand it. To be a victim. No. Better let Russia believe she was just conquered like any other territory; according to the official record, nothing other than that happened. Her people aren't thrilled to have been taken from Lithuania and put with Russia. _Idiots_.

It's a stupid idea, to sneak into Lithuania's room (quarters? Cell?) without telling Russia. She doesn't even know why she's going there – to gloat? Nonetheless, she's doing it because really, she's not that smart.

He looks stunned to see her. "Natalya," he says. "You're here."

"Indeed." Neither of them have anything to say. "You lost."

He gives her a quizzical look. "Well, yes. It's uncommon to get conquered when you win the war, you know."

"You lost and I won," she says. "Everything you went through to make me yours – it didn't work. I fought you and eventually, I won. I escaped."

Lithuania sighs sadly, staring at the floor. "It was never meant to be a battle."

"You have an odd way of showing that."

He looks up at her again. "So are you happy now? That your beloved brother Russia has come for you? Do you think it will be better? That he'll protect you from people like me?"

"Yes."

He stares. "Dear god – what did I do to you?" he asks. "Look at you. You're not even connected to your people anymore – they're terrified of this!"

"They'll come around."

"How blind can you possibly be Belarus?"

She pauses. "You don't call me that."

"I – no?" He seems confused. "I always wanted to call you your human name. I felt – closer to you. But given our current status and how you feel about me, I didn't think that would be a good idea."

"You just said my human name."

"I thought of it between the two."

She shakes her head. "Russia doesn't want people calling me that. Belarus," she says. "Don't."

"And you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I really did break you, didn't I?" he asks. "When I had you–"

"You never _had_ me, Toris!" she shouts. "You just made me hate you and kept me against my will! I never belonged to you, do you understand that?"

There's a pause. "Right. I didn't have you," he says. "Well, except that one time–"

"Shut up!"

He sighs. "I am sorry, for all of it, you know," he says. "Looking back – I was so obsessed. I convinced myself that, somehow, it was your fault – that you were the one doing this to me. That I should be commended for resisting as much as I did."

"Do you expect me to pity you?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know why you came to see me," he says. "Didn't you just want it to be over?"

"It is over," she says. "I just wanted to see – you're alone. That's what you deserve."

* * *

><p>"Russia! Brother Russia!" she bolts down the corridor, barely avoiding tripping over her skirt. "Russia, <em>please<em>, come out, I need you!"

She's so frightened. She doesn't even know what she's frightened of; clearly no-one is coming after her, and what could Lithuania possibly do to her now?But it is Lithuania, it is Toris, and he has always been this monster and she needs her big brother to protect her – isn't that the job of a big brother?

She runs to the door to Russia's room, and finds it locked. From the sound of things there's no-one in there anyway. She collapses against it, crying. Russia will come back for her. He has to, right? To protect and fight for her. That's what he _does_, right?

"Russia, please," she sobs. "Please come out... I'm scared, Russia, please..."

* * *

><p>He can hear his sister sobbing above him. She has done this before. Played the victim to activate his fraternal instincts, then ambushed him when he was least expecting it. Every bit of him wants to go up there to comfort her, but he's smarter than that.<p>

This is a new hiding spot; one he pushed Lithuania to install rather quickly. He was brutal about it. But he is frightened and he loses his mind when it comes to her.

Belarus sobs above him, and Russia shivers down in the hole. He hopes he won't shake the floorboards and give his position away. He is so tired of having to fear her, when she follows him to the ends of the earth and scares away his friends and violates his privacy like he is nothing but something she can use to help herself...

His sister is a monster, and he is so, so scared.

* * *

><p><strong>History Notes:<strong> The idea of the Ruthenian duchy fell through after an invasion by Russia and Sweden. The war was terrible on Belarus; a high percentage of the population died.

The Belarusian lands were transferred to Russia after the partition of Poland. Several de-Polonization and Russification efforts were made, including the banning of the term _Belarusia_ in the 1840s.

**Other Notes:** Jeez, I apologise for how long it took to get the final installment of this completed. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story.


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